Murder City
by rockmontreal
Summary: Jasper's back story with a twist. Not everything has a fairytale ending. Some people you just can't trust. One wrong decision backfires on the young major leaving him in a very difficult position. One shot.


Murder city

It's 1893, Texas, America. The American Civil War is in full swing. I, Major Jasper Whitlock, have been fighting since conflict began two years ago.

Unionists are my enemy, or at least I was told they are. They want slavery to end. Why? They put their heads in the clouds and decided that it's disgraceful and should be abolished. Personally I don't care. I know how it will end: the North always win.

Another bloody battle broke out this morning. Men are still fighting. I however am moving closer to the Texan border; I want to be as far away from the frontline as possible. Some people would see this as being weak and incapable. It isn't though. I was told it's okay to say no.

Moving north I smell the heavy stench of blood. We had annexed most of the northern border of Texas, which makes it easier to move. But the Union insist on fighting battles for land that has already been won. They yearn for a good fight.

On my flanks are two of the least trustworthy officers I had ever met. They are like geese, loud and annoying. Their horses are spectacular though, better than old Rusty anyway. Both officers are two years my senior, but act like five year olds: I guess the war hasn't changed them.

We have just reached the border. Battles from northern states are still ringing out. It has darkened down now even though we aren't going to get a great sleep we set up camp in the hopes of seeing tomorrow.

~0~

Days pass. The heat beats down on us but we keep moving. We lost an officer last night as we were travelling through conflict. So it was just me, my officer and my conscience...wonderful.

_You know you should turn back, fight. Be a man about it. You're such a coward._

I know I should turn back, but I have lost enough these past two years. I don't need to lose myself. I have seen people hang on a noose, watched many soldiers from my regiment die. Worst of all though I watched the man I trusted the most slaughter my wife, the woman I wanted a future with. From that day on I trusted no-one. My sanity is on the line, one wrong decision, one wrong move and that's it. Poof! I'd be dead meat.

I switch back to reality and notice a figure about fifty feet west of us in my peripheral vision. Unmoving and dressed in white, possibly a Unionist. I can't be too sure though.

"Major Whitlock," Officer Stewart calls.

"Yes officer?"

"Maybe we should turn back; I don't like the look of that person," he nods to where the stranger is standing. He looks scared. For goodness sake he is a senior officer and he is shaken up over one peculiar man. What a coward. Some might argue I am one too: I am walking away from battle after all.

"Nah, I won't turn back," I said sternly. "I won't stop. I have made a choice and I'm going to follow through,"

My officer is in a state of shock.

"Oh...okay then," is all he says. I am taking that as approval to move forward.

I pat Rusty on the shoulder and he starts to move toward the almost ghost like figure. My officer follows suit keeping a safe distance.

"STOP!" the person yells. But I can't bring myself to make a rational decision or stop. I've lost control.

The stranger yells for us to stop again but there is something enchanting about them, something very endearing.

We trot through the abandoned town, empty ranches and boarded up windows. I reach for my rifle, getting a firm hold on it. As we take the long stroll I think about why I walked away from battle. It wasn't because I couldn't handle it or that I didn't enjoy fighting. I walked away because I didn't know what I was fighting for, how it would benefit me. I won't let myself crack under the pressure of another, fall to another's glory. I won't fight a losing battle, one day we will fall.

We are getting ever closer to the mysterious person. Tension is rippling off of Major Stewart and there is a heavy cloud of anticipation hanging around us, it's almost palpable.

The being turns and stalks forward to meet us in the middle of the deserted, dusty town.

"Too late," the person says mischievously.

What?

I can now make out a few features of the person standing in front of me, sharp jaw line, a row of perfectly straight, white teeth set in a menacing grin –that sends shivers down my spine- and long, snow white hair glistening in the morning sun. The thing is male. That I am sure of.

The man lifts his eyes to meet mine in a cold glare. He introduces himself as Caius, a name from long ago. I am now 99% sure that Caius isn't the same as Major Stewart and I. He is very different. I he supernatural?!

"One usually introduces themselves and the other always responds," Caius points out breaking the deafening silence. It is very obvious that he is from another country: no-one in Texas speaks with a thick Italian accent.

"Major Jasper Whitlock of the confederacy," I say as confidently as I can manage. "And this is Officer Charles Stewart." I announce. I hear Officer Stewart gulp behind me.

"A major you say? One thinks you are a coward," Caius states.

What? Is this man insane? We met 2 minutes ago and he is telling me I'm a coward. It's not like he's been following me around the past few days...

"And why would that be?" I enquire; his presence is playing with my head. I can't think straight.

"Why do you have to ask? Isn't it obvious? You walked away. Gave up. One would consider that as an act of cowardice," he explains, not looking me in the eye.

"I turned away. I didn't give up. We are going to fall and we will forever be ruled by the Unionists. I don't want to be responsible for that," I inform him. "Do you think it feels good to be drenched in guilt? To have known you could have done something to stop it from happening," I question.

"You are a negative man," he spits. "You wouldn't know what guilt feels like if it slapped you in the face!" he yells.

Caius starts to circle me like a vulture closing in on it's pray. I don't care, all I can see is red. I am burning like hot coal in a fire.

"I'm not a negative man," I yell at him "I am a realist, one of the few people who don't have their heads in the clouds. As for not feeling guilt, you don't know me. You haven't lived my life. You can't judge me," I spit. My mind goes fuzzy again. This man has an uncontrollable power over me and I don't like it.

"You are an angry man, unsure of his choices in life, but always making the correct decision," he says with a menacing tone to his voice. He is still circling me.

"Of course I make the right choice. I have made too many mistakes, did too many things I'll regret. Things I'll take to my death bed." Why was I opening up to his man, I like to keep myself to myself.

"One of those mistakes being?" He asks me.

"Not doing anything to save the one I would have given everything I own up to keep." I need to stop!

"Everything?" he inquires.

I don't say anything.

"I see, I have rendered you speechless," he says arrogantly.

"Speechless," I let out an empty chuckle. "Never,"

He turns his back to ask Officer Stewart a question, I grab the opportunity with both hands and raise my gun and shoot.

Bang!

He falls to the ground.

"That's one decision I won't regret," I exclaim.

I pull a box of matches from my pocket. I light one and throw it onto Caius. I turn away and head off in the other direction.

~0~

Since killing Caius Officer Stewart and I have made our way north to Oklahoma. I don't know whether this is a good idea or not. I suppose we will find out.

"Major Brooks, we should maybe move further north. I have a feeling that people are closing in on us," Officer Stewart states.

"No, we will be safe here," I tell him. He agrees and offers to help me set up camp.

We talk for a few hours before turning in for the night. I haven't slept in days and it is taking its toll on me.

I fall in and out of sleep. I keep seeing the face of the man who killed my wife. His words ringing in my head; 'I'll be back for you.'

I wake to the sound of gun shots. This isn't meant to happen. People aren't meant to fight here and we are supposed to be safe.

I give my officer a slap in the face, he won't move. I slap him again, this time a bit harder. Still no response. I look for any signs that he has been shot, nothing. It must have been a trauma of some sort.

I am just going to have to leave him here; I can't get caught up in this fight. I grab my rifle taking one last look at the man who has followed me on my pursuit and then I leave the tent.

I mount Rusty and make my way towards the sounds of guns. I never thought that I would be going back to the dreaded place.

About an hour later I reach the edge of the blitzkrieg. With no-one to protect me I kept to the outskirts of the conflict.

I look over the field and notice a familiar face, it is him. The man I trusted. The man who slaughtered my wife.

I make my way towards him with my rifle raised I put my finger on the trigger with every intention of pulling it.

He notices me and gives me the same spine tingling smile he gave me right before slitting her neck. His words play over in my head.

Bang!

Blackness!


End file.
